Past Comes Back
by ice shredder
Summary: When Nyah Hall staggers back into Ethan Hunt's life covered in blood and bruises with no memory of what happened he resolves to find out who committed such an unforgivable act. Little do they realize a terrorist group is targeting the IMF for complete destruction. Soon, the IMF finds itself on borrowed time and the past Ethan shares with Nyah threatens to collide with his present.
1. Chapter 1

**Fandom: Mission Impossible**

 **Title: Past Comes Back**

 **Author: ice shredder**

 **Spoilers/Warnings: M:I-M:I-3 references and my own imagination of what Ethan and Nyah's relationship might've evolved into after M:I-2 closed and how that will affect Ethan's present with his wife Julia and the fate of the IMF. Scenes of torture, explosions, emotional angst and love, and the usual plot twists and cliffhangers so buckle your seatbelts, folks.**

 **Disclaimer: Sadly, Ethan Hunt and his friends don't belong to me except for the plot and various OCs.**

 **Summary: When Nyah Hall staggers back into Ethan Hunt's life covered in blood and bruises with no memory of what happened he resolves to find out who committed such an unforgivable act. Little do they realize a terrorist group is targeting the IMF for complete destruction. And the key to stopping them lies in Nyah's mind. But recovering her fragmented memories might be harder than Ethan and Co. think, putting the IMF on borrowed time that's quickly running out**.

 _Prologue_

 _The sturdy shack clear in the heights of the Swiss Alps was peaceful in the tranquility of the below-freezing night. Only on the outside though. Inside bore witness to a torture that would put most mad scientists to shame._

 _A slim bronzy, coffee-eyed beauty sat bound hand and foot in a metal chair, glassy-eyed bruised and bloodied. Angry knife wounds left crevasses in her flawless skin, her back, legs, and arms bore the brunt of this, oozing her life's blood in a relentless drip-drip. Contusions disfigured her oval face and ribs throbbed mercilessly. Lash marks scored her back where she'd been whipped repeatedly with a cat o' nine tails. Her shapely legs were swollen to twice their size and slit in several places not to relieve the pressure but inflict calculating pain. Her clothes hung off her tortured frame in pitiful rags, dark chocolate hair in tangles. She groaned, half-conscious, tears pouring involuntarily down her cheeks against the brutal assault._

 _How long had she been here? One day? Three? She prayed the sessions would cease._

" _Well, isn't this a crying shame," a handsome man purred. His athletic physique, black hair and movie star looks belied his sadistic nature. A wicked gleam of steel glinted between his dexterous, slab-like hand with long sinewy fingers. They were latex-protected, spattered with blood discouraging any evidence. "Fun's over."_

 _He stepped back into the semi-shadowy darkness motioning to his computer whiz as he stripped off his soiled gloves and tossed them into the crackling fire, the only light source in the place. Satisfied at the sight of the latex material hissing in the fire's heat he reached into his pocket and snapped on another pair._

" _Brendan," he whispered, "are the devices ready?"_

 _His stocky companion sat in the corner of the room, clicking away at the keyboard of his smart laptop. Bald and surprisingly adept with bare hand forms and handguns Brendan Challis's skill level not only rivaled Luther Stickell and Benji Dunn's in the latest software and technological development he surpassed it. Challis was responsible for the creation of "smart" nanotechnology in the field._

" _Should be ready in ten," he said without taking his eyes off the screen. "Which means you want it in five, right?"_

" _Yes. We're leaving soon."_

 _Drawing a black bandanna from his pocket, Asa Morelli – disguise artist, professional sadist, and skilled combatant – crossed the room with the grace of a natural athlete and stopped behind his latest victim._

" _Sorry for the inconvenience Nyah," he said tying the cloth firmly around her eyes. "But we can't take any chances." His smarmy tone gave her the creeps. It reminded her of her dead ex-lover Sean Ambrose but she refused to cry. Images of Ethan Hunt flickered before her in all his rugged, manly glory steadying her shredded nerves._ Dear Ethan. _The last time she'd seen him was 6 years ago when he announced his field retirement._ _It seemed a lifetime ago she'd looked up and saw him there at that house party in Seville falling into the magnetic pull of his stormy ocean eyes and falling in love with him despite the risk._

 _Her thoughts were interrupted by the brute puncturing a syringe needle full of a powerful anesthetic into her bruised hip. She groaned in pain and slumped forward expelling a small breath._ Stay awake _she instructed herself. Morelli signaled to the two other men who made up his four-man squad. They slipped forward silent as ghosts cut her bonds and wrapped her in a blanket._

 _Before transporting their bundle to the idling car outside one of them zip-tied her hands in front then the men heaved her into the air and the bitterly cold wind sliced through the blanket. Blackness encroached on her vision. The last sound Nyah Nordoff-Hall heard (and remembered for a while) was the slam of the car's trunk._


	2. Chapter 2

_IMF HQ_

 _three weeks later…_

"Unbelievable! An entire team executed! What happened in Prague? Those were some of our best; one a top field officer. It doesn't make sense. Everything was in place. We had our man!" Secretary Devin Caruso of the Impossible Mission Force glared at the panel of senior personnel seated at the secure debriefing room conference table. His current target was semi-retired field agent/recruiter Ethan Hunt who was none too pleased at his superior's tone.

"All due respect, the team tracking that secret exchange of suspicious materials was by the book," he said, arms folded to cover his agitation. "HQ had no idea Agent Staines would be outed. He's far too—"

"Well the truth is Agent Hunt he's no longer with us to validate that claim. Neither is his team."

"That 's the million dollar question. How are we gonna fix this?"

"Fix? There's nothing to fix. Short of resurrecting the dead there isn't anything you can do. And," Caruso said his temper in high gear, "I'm never sending disavowed agents for risky ops. Not like this one. There's too much at stake."

 _Luther was disavowed once. And now he's one of my closest friends._ But that wasn't a smart thing to mention. Not when Caruso was in one of his rages.

Caruso prowled around the table hands locked behind his back. " What's worse is they were deep cover which raises the all disturbing yet plausible issue of an internal leak-"

"Which there's no concrete evidence suggesting-"

"Do _not_ interrupt! You don't know that."

Ethan shifted position in his hardback chair. "With respect Mr. Secretary, we need to examine this from another angle."

"Explain your reasoning Mr. Hunt." That was Tanner Campbell, Muskgrave's replacement. Dark-haired and athletic he leaned forward to steeple his fingers. Shooting the man a grateful glance Hunt quickly outlined his theory making eye contact with everyone present.

"…we have to consider an outside breach of the system," he finished. _Or it was possible that the team had been exposed during the operation._ But it was dangerous to think that way. There was simply no proof and to the IMF brass hard evidence was bread and butter.

Campbell and the others were deep in thought but their body language told him they weren't going to discard his idea. Yet. Caruso was slow to respond but when he did it wasn't what the senior spy hoped for.

"So in other words Agent Hunt, you're proposing to this body that a foreign source is responsible for compromising a covert operation and causing the deaths of Staines and his team."

"That's correct."

"Do you have proof to confirm your theory?"

 _I knew he was gonna ask that._ "No. Not yet but I can—"

"Because if not then top priority must be directed within our own agency. Wild guesses get us nowhere."

"But you'll keep it in mind."

"Mr. Campbell."

The young man looked at his boss.

"Assemble the best crack team you can find and sweep everyone's activity from the previous year to the present. Find the leak and report any suspicious activity. Any questions?"

Ethan was furious. He hated being overruled. Procedure trumped theory every time.

"All right," Caruso said by way of dismissing the meeting. "Get to work."

In his office on the third floor Ethan dropped exhausted into the swivel chair at his desk. He switched on his 19" flat screen LCD monitor. _I'll just check the news then call it a day._ He typed in CNNs website and a fresh breaking news alert sent an amp of adrenaline and horror into his system.

" _This just in from Madison, Wisconsin. Doctors and police are asking all available media outlets for aid in the search for a missing female from the University of Wisconsin Health hospital. The patient was found a block from the university at a motel and admitted early Tuesday morning to the ER in critical condition by a Good Samaritan. Doctors were shocked at the severity of her injuries; multiple stab and slash wounds maybe whip marks, extensive contusions to most of her body were in strong evidence. Her name is Nyah Nordoff-Hall. Mid-thirties. Slim. Very attractive. Brown hair, brown eyes and bronze skin."_

Ethan felt like someone dropped a 100 pound weight on his chest and shoulders. He clutched the monitor in a vise grip. The anchorman had to visibly compose himself before continuing.

" _I'm about to show a series of photographs that are extremely graphic in nature. The police say it is for investigative purposes only but if you are squeamish please avert your eyes."_

Later, he'd find her wounds more unbearable in person. But the pictures seared into his mind as they appeared on his screen he'd have to fight to forget. Her flawless copper skin, which he recalled caressing with his fingertips at a Seville safe house and other secret rendezvous around the world, was now battered, bruised and cut with the intention of inflicting maximum amount of pain. Her oval face was blotched purple, black and blue. Both eyes were swollen shut and red streaks on her cheeks and jawline were clearly knife marks, ditto her neck and other exposed body parts the hospital gown didn't cover. What she suffered to the rest of her frame wasn't hard to guess but the ashen-faced reporter cut off the rest of the slideshow.

Ethan sat frozen in his seat, scalp prickling mouth dry. His heartbeat accelerated till the organ threatened to claw free of his chest. Fury boiled hot then cold as he watched the newsman barely hold it together moving on slow and haltingly.

" _Ladies and gentlemen, I urge you to put this into perspective. This young lady somehow slipped past the staff and security in grave condition after spending only three weeks in the ICU and her whereabouts are unknown. She's fallen off the grid, which given her condition shouldn't be possible. The police are stumped. Any help locating her will be tricky at best because the patient is difficult to pin down in one place. Please submit any tips to the Madison County Police hotline. Thank you."_

Stunned, the master spy muted the sound to the monitor. Mind whirling he groped for the near empty wastebasket and clutched it to his chest. They'd never find her because he knew firsthand she was good at disappearing. He spat into the receptacle fighting the urge to vomit. _Think!_ Where could she have gone?

The haunting question screamed at him. Who had tortured her to within an inch of her life like that? Too many unknowns. Reeling, Ethan staggered to the men's room down the hall; the cylindrical trash can under his arm. Thankfully the bathroom was deserted. He splashed cold water on his burning cheeks trying to reel his racing pulse in.

 _I gotta find her before the cops do. And fast._

Nothing else mattered.


	3. Chapter 3

Asa Morelli knew better than anyone else how dangerous emotional ties had on the espionage community. It wasn't against the law to form bonds, but any operative worth their salt knew in the long haul it wasn't healthy or smart. To that end he'd recruited men married to their job, not tied down with wives or families.

Now the first phase of their mission was well underway.

With Brendan in the crow's nest, Asa supervised the placing of the first device in the bowels of the Hezbollah mainframe. Connor Switchblade, (wiring and explosives) and Dillon Lacroix (weapons expert) were hard at work installing the innocuous cylinder that carried lethal amounts of energy that would cripple their foes without the danger of world authorities breathing down their necks. Dillon and Conner conversed in low tones as they worked.

"So Dil you think this'll get a rise out of the spooks?"

Lacroix finished tightening the final screws on the device. "I hope so Switch. Hate to see all this fine labor wasted."

"Yeah, I hear ya there. This's Hunt's territory by the way," Connor chuckled. "I can't wait for his reaction."

"You won't have to wait long. Anyway he's too busy dealing with the boss's handiwork to notice anything else might be wrong."

"And it needs to stay that way until we're finished," Asa broke in. He crouched over the device, examining it for faults. Everything had to be perfect. There'd be no time for repairs.

"Good work fellas. Brendan, make sure everything checks out."

Less than a minute later his computer genius buzzed his earpiece.

"All systems are green and ready to roll Ace."

"Right. Come on boys. Let's clear out. Leave no traces behind."

After a brisk, thorough wipe down the van carrying the four man squad rolled into the bustling street of downtown Hezbollah.

 _I hope you're ready to play Hunt. I look forward to destroying you and your precious IMF._

He had a major beef with the spy community's increasingly invasive data collection measures they were giving themselves without the public's consent. And thanks to Ghost Protocol, the largest virtual back door in cyberspace history had been created and piggybacked into by his hacker genius Brendan Challis. So during that rare window, he'd ordered Challis to sneak in and perform the biggest information download of his career. Particularly the gold mine they scored in master spy Ethan Hunt.

His records were insanely impressive, but what intrigued Asa the most was the wide variety of agents Hunt employed over the years. No two teams were alike.

But Challis found an anomaly. Nyah Nordoff-Hall. The only civilian Hunt had ever recruited. After the Chimera Mission, he'd never repeated the process. It was as if the woman simply dropped off the grid, her extensive criminal record wiped off Interpol, Scotland Yard and every Dutch authority's records. Which Brendan acquired through extensive cybernetic hacking that left him and the others in awe.

Thus Asa made the call to track Ms. Hall down for him to work his own brand of magic. Surprisingly it wasn't an easy task as she kept moving from place to place, having fallen back into old habits 4 years after her record disappeared.

And that's when they'd located the elusive thief near the Austrian border. Asa smiled.

 _Gotta be one of my best works yet. And she'll be the one who brings Hunt and the IMF to its knees._


	4. Chapter 4

**IMF HQ - Chicago branch**

Leaden skies threatened a fierce downpour. Nyah Hall shivered underneath her tan trench. Her black yoga pants and silk sleeveless blouse made her more vulnerable than she cared to admit. _What am I doing here? A normal person would've gone to the cops but escaping from a hospital doesn't fit that bill. I thought this part of my life was behind me._ She closed her eyes gathering her pin balling thoughts. _Focus. You're here to find Ethan. Just act like you belong here._

Before her Prada-shaded eyes stood a gateway to another world: the Impossible Missions Force Chicago hub. The building was a gunmetal steel affair. Four stories. A flight of concrete steps led up to the bulletproof glass doors that opened into a head-twisting maze of corridors, cutting edge wizardry, and the agents whose exploits were legendary in non-official cover (NOC) fieldwork.

She took a determined breath, then climbed the steps with some difficulty. _Thank God I've got non-slip shoes on._ High-heels were a no go, not with her legs stiff and half-swollen. _Please let Ethan be here. I know he saw that broadcast. Even Luther or Billy's welcome._ Nyah felt heartened knowing Ethan wouldn't stop until he found her but she planned to get the drop on him.

Once inside she glanced around to get her bearings. In the center of the marble floor lobby a sign hung over a circular desk with a computer terminal that read INFORMATION/HELP DESK. As Nyah limped toward the desk agents about their business paused to take her in. They wondered at the battered young female civilian in their domain and what kind of story her wounds told.

"Hello," she said to the thirty-something attendant. He was nattily dressed in a suit and his hair slicked back. "Ethan Hunt please."

"Agent Hunt is unavailable. May I take a message?" He didn't bother to lift his head.

 _Idiot._ "I need to know where I can reach him. It's a matter of life and death."

"Ma'am I'm not at liberty to-oh my God! What happened to you?"

 _Yep. That got his attention._

"That's between Ethan and me," Nyah waved off his alarm. "He's not responsible but I don't feel safe outside."

The man fingers danced over the keyboard. "My apologies miss. Forgive my rudeness. Name?"

She told him and a few clicks of the keys later her identity was confirmed. A plastic ID tag was made along with a clip. "Please wear this at all times Miss Hall," the technician said. "Is there anything else?"

"Yes. Where's the infirmary? And can Luther Stickell or Billy Baird escort me?"

"Agent Stickell is currently in the field but Agent Baird's just returned from an assignment 12 hours ago. He's in the debriefing room with his team. They're giving their report now."

Nyah swayed on her feet, dizzy from the effort of standing. Next thing she knew she was in a wheelchair being wheeled to the infirmary by a stranger. They passed glass-walled offices most of them occupied. Nyah caught snatches of conversation wafting from the half open doors most of which (thanks to Ethan) she could understand.

Soon they arrived at the infirmary and she was admitted into one of the sickbeds. Great. I've gone from one hospital bed to another. Just peachy. The on-duty doctor was patient and kind but when she started asking pertinent questions about how exactly did her patient receive such extensive trauma Nyah clammed up.

"Just change the dressings doc. Right now caution takes precedence over disclosure." She locked eyes with the matronly woman, begging her to understand. "Until the one agent I know and trust finds me no man is allowed to touch me."

"Ok ma'am if you say so. But we're gonna run a rape kit to be safe, if that's all right with you."

"No it's not."

"SOP dear. Please," the woman moved to a beige cabinet, "with injuries like this who knows what else might be hiding."

Nyah crossed her ankles wincing at how bad that small movement hurt. "I'm pretty sure whoever did this wouldn't have to."

"But-"

"Look I'm not gonna submit to the kit. Don't waste our time. Treating my wounds will be enough."

Her sharp tone did the trick. The healer turned in her tracks and walked over to the medicine cabinet on the other side of the room.

"If you'll please remove your shirt Miss Hall, I can start on your back. Arms next then chest and legs."

As Nyah obeyed she smelled the sharp odor of hydrogen peroxide mixed with iodine burn cream and saline solution. She gritted her teeth as gauze soaked in peroxide settled on her mutilated flesh.

 _This is gonna be a loooong day. Oh well. After this, finding Ethan's top priority if he doesn't find me first._

tbc...

 **Constructive reviews make me happy. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

The cool night air was lost on Nyah as she hobbled to the Marriott Hotel in downtown Chicago with the aid of a teakwood cane. Crutches weren't an option. They were too obvious and she needed speed and stealth. As she entered the Marriott's bright friendly lobby the tension in her shoulders eased a bit. Still, it wasn't until she checked into her third floor room under an alias did she allow herself to relax.

 _I just don't want that meddling clerk to call the fuzz. It won't help anything, and really what can they do except ask questions I don't have any answers to. Besides given my criminal history I'll end up in the slammer faster than I can blink._

Nyah gingerly rolled her shoulders. The medical attention she received at the IMF clinic was a godsend. Her mobility was somewhat limited and painful in certain areas (like legs and arms) but she was functional. As far as the room went it was perfect for the night. Tomorrow, she'd be on the move. Another city another hidey-hole.

With some difficulty she dragged the chair from its place at the table to push under the doorknob. A simple task done in less than a minute took ten. She came away on shaky legs cursing her fatigue. Cold sweat made her clothes cling to her thin undershirt guarding her heavily bandaged chest and torso.

 _Whatcha gonna do if an intruder breaks in?_ A tiny voice mocked her. _You can barely move a bloody chair for cripes sake!_

She collapsed fully clothed on the bed. _Thank God it's a queen. More room to move. And shut up okay? Every day that goes by I get stronger. It's not like I've never been in tight places before._

 _Uh huh. This ain't your normal 'tight' place. More like a box of stupid._

 _Ethan'll find me. I'm just not gonna make it easy that's all. He'll hafta catch me._

 _Aw man, not this again._

 _You got a better idea?_

Silence.

 _Nope didn't think so._

Nyah peeled back the down comforter and slowly burrowed into the clean linens. Physical and mental exhaustion quickly lulled her into a blissful state of deep sleep.

...

It didn't take long for her reoccurring nightmare to intrude.

 _Blizzard, plain and simple._

 _Or was it pain and cripple?_

 _I sensed something was horribly wrong and I was afraid._

 _Boots. Men's voices. Brutal calculated blows. Searing pain._

 _What's that? Smells like copper and salt-_

 _Blood._

 _Oh sweet Jesus. This isn't happening. Somebody help me!_

 _Where am I? How'd I get here? Where's here? Who's beating me? What's going on? Am I gonna die? I don't wanna die here! Help! Why won't anyone come?_

 _Eyes swelled shut. Can't see a bloody thing. Wait who's that?_

 _A huge shadowy silhouette blocks what dim lights left. I'm dizzy. "Well, isn't this a crying shame. Fun's over." He sounds foreign. Who is he? He scares me._

 _He turns and walks away. He says something to another person I can't see. I hear everything but it hurts too much to think._

 _Ouch! Douchebag stabbed me with a needle. I hate those things. Wait. Vision's going black. Is that a cloth over my face? Take it off. Take it off! TAKE IT OFF!_

Nyah bolted awake, clawing at her face. She had to get that cloth off. Her arm bumped the nightstand and she cried out. Shuddering she gripped the edge trying to calm her heavy breathing. The green alarm clock numbers read 4:45 a.m.

"Nightmare. Not good," she mumbled. "I swear I saw a man in it. But who? It's not Ethan. He'd never hurt me." Even as she spoke the agent's name a wave of longing swept over her trembling frame. She needed to feel his strong arms around her, protecting her from the onslaught of nightmarish flashbacks. Needed his warm charismatic presence, his tender love, and his fierce determination. She had a bad feeling this tiny fragment would the first of many and they'd only get worse.

The former thief cursed her trembling abused body. PTSD was horrible and she pitied those who suffered from it. And now for some unknown reason, she found it had enlisted her without her giving consent.

She wasn't sure what the outcome might be when the truth was finally revealed.

As she leaned back on the pillow and pulled the covers to her chin one nagging thought plagued her for the rest of the night.

Fear.


	6. Chapter 6

30,000 feet en route to his connection flight in Wisconsin, Ethan gazed out the window at the setting sun bathing the skies in a gorgeous array of reds, purples and oranges. The plane was half full but his platinum frequent flyer card guaranteed him first class treatment. Which, much to his relief after being seated, was less noisy than coach. Good. He needed every ounce of his considerable focus and strength at his disposal.

Nyah's life was at stake. Again. And this time he had no concrete leads to work with. He rubbed a hand over his face. _I'm not off to a great start._

Not three hours ago, he discovered where his elusive target was. Tipped off via his best friend and hacker extraordinaire Luther Stickell he booked the first flight out to Chicago.

Praying he wouldn't lose it and go berserk.

Praying this was just a horrible nightmare that he'd wake up from soon.

He wished he could unsee the vicious brutality inflicted on his first love's beautifully bronze skin that was no longer flawless but the macabre canvas of a professional sadist. That she was able to slip out of Madison-U's intensive care unit and drop off the radar was a testament to her skills as a thief and strong will to live. Oh and staying a step ahead of the cops was probably a major contributing factor into her reasoning.

He sighed, absently accepting a flight attendant's offer for a beer. He wouldn't sleep easy until she was under his protective eye, and even then he wouldn't allow anything (or anyone) near her he deemed a threat to her life or physical well-being.

 _I'm gonna get to see Nyah for the first time in 6 years. Wow. Has it really been that long? I hope to God I can hold it together. And I'll hunt down the bastards who tortured her. Whatever it takes._ His jaw tightened as he gazed out the round airplane window, fleecy clouds flowing past. _They won't be able to hide from me._

His mind wandered to Seville, Spain. At the time he'd been under orders to recruit her for a sting operation by his superiors to retrieve information to stop Sean Ambrose a rogue agent from unleashing a highly infectious plague onto the world. It wasn't his usual MO to use a civilian. In fact, due to the mission's highly unstable nature it was downright dangerous. But it didn't matter in the end. As long as Ambrose and his team had been stopped the means justified the ends.

He sighed and touched his forehead to the round glass port. Many things happened during that mission that defied the rules. Like living under a constant worry Nyah might get hurt and he wasn't there to save her if things went south.

Or the fear of losing any member of his team like he did at Prague and it wasn't his fault.

Or praying Nyah wouldn't be exposed as an informant.

Or by the end of the mission they'd be forced to choose between love and what they believed in.

It wasn't until after he located her in the bustling grounds next to the Sydney Opera House took her slim form into his arms and kissed her soft lips that he realized he loved her. No.

It was when she'd injected herself with the last of the Chimera virus right in front of him. Ethan squeezed his eyes closed as snap shots of that horrible moment clicked through his mind at rapid speed. He remembered feeling how his body locked up from shock and horror at Nyah's calm acceptance of her impending death. Knowing Ambrose wouldn't kill her because she was 37 million pounds. Knowing she did it to protect him.

 _"What did you think you were doing?!"_

 _"I wasn't thinking! Just trying to stop you from getting hurt that's all!"_

 _"You who don't have a conscience."_

 _"I guess I lied."_

He expelled a quiet breath that wavered just slightly. Gave the perky blonde attendant a curt nod as she set a cold one on his folding tray.

She'd blurted her true feelings for him in that single response. And like a fool he'd let her slip through his fingers.

 _My God, the dual life I've led. I pledged my love and devotion to Jules while sleeping with my first love in locations all over the world after missions. Yeah. It's a good thing she never found that part of my life but now…? All I've worked to construct is gonna crumble if I don't do something._

The intercom dinged pulling the spy out of his wandering thoughts.

" _Ladies and gentlemen this is your captain speaking. We are preparing our final approach to_ General Mitchell International Airport. _Please bring all trays into their upright positions, fasten your seatbelts and thank you for flying American Airlines."_

Ethan strapped in noticing a slight tremble in his hands. _I can't be afraid. Nyah needs a clear rational mind not an emotional freight train._ Still he couldn't help his feelings. He was a passionate man (who often got attached to the people he worked with especially the women) and that more often than not got him into serious trouble in the field.

His pager beeped. The readout said it was from Billy Baird.

SUBJECT HAS LEFT CHICAGO HQ.

 _No! Late again!_

He quickly typed a terse reply.

WHERE IS SHE?

Seconds later Billy got back to him and it made him uneasy.

I DON'T KNOW. SHE DIDN'T SAY. SORRY.

TRACK HER PHONE.

OH YEAH. THAT'LL GO OVER WELL.

JUST DO IT.

OK.

Tight-lipped, Ethan shut his pager off. The woman wasn't going to be out of his sight much longer. He raised the rim of the brown bottle to his lips and took a long pull, then swallowed. He was thirstier than he thought.

 _Stop running Nyah. Let me help you._

 **A/N: Big hug to the guest who reviewed! As a reward here's the latest chapter. :) Keep the support coming!**


	7. Chapter 7

Ethan rode a cab to the downtown Chicago Marriott when his phone buzzed. He dug it out of his pocket and absentmindedly glanced at the name above the number.

 _JHunt._

 _Oh crap. What now?_

"Hey Jules."

"Hey baby. Still out saving the world?" His beautiful sassy wife of six years hadn't missed one of their regular check-ins. It was a system they'd worked out before heading off on their honeymoon. As long as they were apart (and it'd been longer than either liked) brief phone calls replaced intimacy. Physical reunions were no longer feasible.

"Yeah kinda. Look I'm in a tight spot right now. I'll call you back later."

"Actually I've got something to tell you-"

"Sorry hon. Later." _Wonder what's up? Hope it's nothing bad._

"Ok. Love you."

And she was gone. Ethan stuffed his phone back into his pocket. A sardonic chuckle and head shake accompanied it.

 _Tight spot. Ha. Understatement of the year. Ya got no idea sweetheart..._

And anyway he wasn't about to get into it with her about where he really was, who he was trying to find and why he couldn't stop until he did.

Finally after thirty excruciating minutes the yellow cab pulled in front of the seven story Marriott. It joined a queue of other vehicles waiting their turn dropping guests off at the covered front doors. Ethan threw two twenties over the seat. "Stay here. I won't be long." The cabby nodded and he jumped out.

 _Please be here._ He prayed as he cut a beeline to the front desk. Fortunately an attractive redhead female clerk smiled at him from behind her computer.

"Good morning sir. How may I help you?"

He flashed his winning smile that never failed to charm its recipient. "Hi. I'm here to see a guest."

"Name please?"

"Nyah Hall."

The girl clicked a few times. She frowned a bit. Ethan felt his stomach drop as he scanned the lobby and every exit.

"We don't seem to have anyone by that name in the computer. Are you sure that's the right one?"

"Could she have checked in under an alias? Famous people tend to do that yanno. Keeps rabid fans away."

Now the clerk cocked her head defensively. "I'm sorry sir, but company policy states-"

"Look I'm sure you've got your reasons but she might be in trouble."

The clerk glanced both ways. She beckoned him to lean over the counter like she was going to show him proof the guest wasn't who he said she was.

"Listen," she muttered fingering her crisp white shirt. Her nameplate read TAMMY clipped to the breast of her black vest. "Last night some woman came in badly beaten. Ron Crew was on duty. He gave her a room and she acted weird like someone was after her." Ethan's heart leaped at the news. He gripped the marble countertop.

"Let me guess. Bronze complexion, brown hair, brown eyes?"

"Yes! That's the one. I wasn't there but Ron told me he recognized her from that news blurb a few weeks back. He wanted to call the police but she insisted she was fine. How do you know?"

"I saw the same broadcast." He had to move. Time was precious. "Is she here?"

Tammy felt moved by this stranger. His body cues and tone suggested this man cared. "You missed her. She checked out an hour ago."

 _No. I can't lose her again!_

"Where?"

"I don't know. She didn't say anything and I didn't ask. I'm so sorry."

"Hey man what gives? There's more of us that want a room!"

Ethan thanked Tammy and raced back to the cab ignoring the heckling loudmouth.

"O'Hare Airport," he instructed the cabbie. "Fast as you can."

 _It's the only thing that makes sense. She never stays put for long._ He dialed Luther Stickell who picked up on the second ring. "It's me. Bird's flown the coup. Now what?"

"I've tracked her signal to the airport but I don't know what flight she's boarded."

"Find it."

"She shut off her phone."

"Oh great. Now I'm playing chicken."

"Sounds like it. Man I couldn't believe what I saw on TV. Brutal. Who'd do such a thing?"

"A sadist." He kept his voice low but Luther heard the controlled anger in his friend's tone. Twelve years and they had no secrets from each other.

"Tell you what. Once Nyah turns on her cell I can ping it to yours."

"It's not what I want but it'll do. God, I hate this Luther. Every second matters. She's in no condition to travel and I can't-" He broke off fighting for control. "I can't-I just-"

"I know. You're gonna find her. Breathe brother."

He closed his eyes. _In out, in out, in out. Good Hunt. Just keep focused-_

Five seconds later his pager beeped.

 **TBC...**

 **Sry for the short one guys, but life's been busy. Anyway hugs to the follows and review! Glad to see some life on this thing, lol.**


	8. Chapter 8

_I can't believe this. Stupid thing goes off at the wrong time._

"Hey Luth, gotta go. Hit me up when you've got Nyah's signal."

"Roger. Keep cool man."

He shoved his phone away and grabbed the infernal pager. Much as he despised the device at times it was second nature to answer it. Orders came from the brass that way and this wasn't any different. He pulled it out and clicked it on. A terse message scrolled across the screen.

TO: AGENT HUNT, ETHAN

RE: CLASSIFED EYES ONLY

MESSAGE AS FOLLOWS: HELLO MR. HUNT. THIS IS A PRIORITY ALPHA TRANSMISSION. YOU'LL FIND A RED IPOD AT THE SHELL CONVENIENCE STORE 18TH AND DOMINO ROAD. RETRIEVE IT FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS.

Ethan did a quick calculation. The station in question was three blocks from the airport. He tapped the cabbie on the shoulder.

"I need to get to the Shell at 18th and Domino. Do you know where it is?"

"Course I do man. That's one of my favorite break stops."

Ethan peeled off three more twenties. "Get there as fast as you can then drop me at the airport."

Twenty minutes later he sipped an Amp while listening to the message on the iPod via his headphones. Tanner Campbell's low voice piped through the speakers.

"Good afternoon Mr. Hunt. Sorry to bother you but the office hit a snag with Agent Staines' mission. Everyone's active record is clean so there's no internal leak, but the brass isn't happy. They want you to pick up where he left off in Prague. It seems Staines and his team was tracking a shipment of capacitors they believed were going to be sold to terrorists. Since their deaths 24 hours before the suspected dealers were arrested we believe the op was compromised. How we're still wondering but I've babbled enough. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is find the men responsible for this hit, find the missing capacitors, disarm them and apprehend the group who possess them. We've selected members from your usual team."

He pressed a button on the iPod's side. Dossier photos of Benji Dunn (hacker genius), Jane Carter (decoy/combat) and William Brandt (combat/weapons) flashed pertinent information.

"They're prepped and ready to rendezvous at a safe house of your choice. I don't need to tell you that the Secretary will disavow all knowledge of your actions should you or any of your IM Force is caught or killed. Good luck, Ethan."

THIS MESSAGE WILL SELF-DESTRUCT IN 5 SECONDS.

 _Prague_ he thought hiding the iPod as the screen went static. A soft puff of smoke curled past his nose. _I was betrayed by a man I thought was my friend. My team was killed. All my old friends gone forever in one night. I hate that city. It's the place of my worst nightmares and my biggest failure besides Lindsey dying in my arms in Berlin._ The thought made his chest ache; a dull throb in a corner of his heart that never fully healed.

 _If I'm honest, none of the wounds I've suffered from their deaths have healed completely. I cauterized them but they tend to smart when I don't expect it. They've left scars._

When the cab pulled up to O'Hare Airport the spy thanked the cabbie and allowed the crush of pedestrians carry him inside, torn in mind where he was supposed to go next.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Halfway across the country Nyah Nordoff-Hall slept in her first class seat oblivious of the spy hot on her heels and the mission he'd just received and how critical she'd become in the process.

~.~.~.~.~.~.~

Halfway around the world a stiff blustery evening in Prague watched four men working like shadows in the underbelly of the city's nerve center. It connected the power source to the IMF branch/main hub that allowed the myriad of agents, attaches, and diplomats in that region full range of surveillance means.

When they left one of their stolen devices was fully magnetized.

 **A/N: sorry about the short chapter guys...I'll be adding more to it soon, but for now enjoy!**


	9. Chapter 9

Veils of mist clung to the buildings and streets of Prague, Czech Republic making it look like you were in an alien world. It was a sleepy Sunday morning and most of the people were still in bed recovering from massive hangovers the night before.

So when Ethan deplaned he waved off several taxis opting to walk the cobblestone thoroughfares. Before he met his team he decided to explore old haunts he hadn't seen in years.

There was a good reason he hadn't been back. Too many bad memories were stamped indelibly into the whispering alleys and furtive buildings.

He browsed quaint shops and bought a sweet coffee from a bistro. By noon the city shook itself awake and the streets filled with slightly hung over revelers. Others laughed and chattered in their native Czech. Without realizing it Ethan's feet carried him to the picturesque Charles Bridge and was halfway across before coming of his preoccupied musing with a start.

Images flooded his mind like a river. Jim Phelps his ex-mentor and friend, who pretended to shoot himself, then toppling over into the river below. He'd set an explosive chain of events that led to Ethan being framed and ultimately the younger man had gone on the run to clear his name.

He saw Sarah Davies slender form shrouded by mist much like this morning. She had followed their mark Golitsyn to a wrought iron gate that ended in her tragic stabbing by another rogue agent Kriegler. His best friend Jack Harmon, impaled on an elevator spike, dead instantly. Hannah Williams, blown to bits in a car bomb set off by Phelps. Claire Phelps, Jim's stunning French wife shot by her husband trying again to save his life. He shook his head to clear it.

 _Why? Why does everything I touch seem to wither and die?_

Well no more. That death-filled night left him a changed man. He never chose the same team twice for two reasons: he didn't want to get too attached and if someone did die, he took it as a personal failure. His track record spoke for itself. Nobody questioned his MO but it didn't take a genius to figure out he was unusual.

His phone jangled. _Who?_

"Hey babe."

"Jules."

"You don't sound happy to hear me."

"No it's not that. I'm on a job, but I can spare a few minutes."

His wife launched into how much she missed him and how incredibly difficult it was to remain separated. Ethan listened with half an ear, grunting in all the appropriate places, his brain in mission mode and quite worried over Nyah's health and safety.

 _Yeah yeah, I know you miss me, blah blah blah. You'd flip your lid if you knew who I've been with on and off for the past 6 years. Why do ya think I no longer initiate contact?_

"Listen babe, I'm almost ready to meet my team. Give Ethan Jr all my love."

"Be careful hon. I love you."

 _Click._

Not two seconds later it rang again.

"Yeah."

"Agent Hunt." It was Jane Carter. "Brandt, Benji, and I just arrived at the airport. What's our rendezvous point?"

He glanced to check if anyone was within earshot. Finding no one he clipped out directions.

"Roger that. Meet you in twenty minutes."

 _Here we go. A mission of fill in the blank. Not my favorite._

In front of the safe house, he pushed the door open to a spiral staircase. This place was where the Phelps task force (they were like family) had met for their final mission briefing before the betrayal happened. And now here he was, twelve years later with a new squad, with a host of problems he hadn't anticipated.

He trotted up the stairs to the second floor. Key in hand he unlocked the heavy black door that would become the nerve center for his IM Force. _Ok I'm early. Now all I hafta do is check to make sure everything's clear-_

A gun cocking stopped him in his tracks.

"Ethan."

Slowly he raised his head toward the voice. It was female and British flavored.

 _Oh my God. It can't be-_

Standing propped against the giant picture window with its burgundy drapes was the woman he thought he'd never find much less see again. Her cut, bruised body seared into his retinas.

Nyah smiled. Relief allowed her tense frame to relax and lower her silenced gun.

She was finally safe.


	10. Chapter 10

_Is...is this real? Am I dreaming this?_

"Nyah...how? How'd you get in here?" Ethan took several halting steps across the room reaching for the slim bronze beauty. _Real stupid genius. Locks don't faze her. Hello. She's a thief._ The young woman cracked a tremulous smile, drawing strength from his presence.

"I used the emergency cell ya left me." It held only two numbers. Luther Stickell's and his own. He knew because he programmed the device himself. "Look I know I'm not supposed to be here," she said as he moved to stand by her in the window. "But I don't have anywhere else to go. And if you were in the field, I didn't want to put your life in jeopardy." _Like I did in Australia._

"Shh," he soothed, pressing a butterfly kiss tenderly to the side of her bruised jaw feeling his heart swell with love. Here she was, beaten almost beyond recognition and she'd been worried about protecting _him_. "You're safe now." _I won't let anything else happen to you._

As he spoke Ethan's blue eyes darted back and forth across her battered flesh. He bent over, fingers barely grasping the hem of her silk shirt.

 _May I?_ His wordless gesture spoke to Nyah louder than any words could. She nodded lightly.

Careful not to cause any discomfort Ethan slowly lifted the soft material partway. Layers of gauze and bandages hid most of the angry ridges left from the clinical knife cuts and corded whip from assaulting his vision. Ever so gently, he ran his fingers over the bindings. They smelled several days old and needed to be changed. Badly. Or infection could set in. Bile and fury rose in his throat but he forced it back. _I can't face this now. But she needs me and I'm not gonna let her down, or out of my sight for that matter._

"Ethan-love it's ok."

He couldn't tear his face away from her waist. "No it's not."

She slowly tipped his chin up with a slim finger. "Don't. I know that look. You didn't know, so don't blame yourself. Besides, whoever did it won't be back to finish the job."

Sickened, Ethan gently splayed his hand over her navel. Dread and rage tightened his muscles.

"Did...did he go any further than this?"

She placed a slender finger over his lips shaking her head no. "Darling, trust me. The bloke who worked me over made bloody sure he wouldn't have to worry about a rape kit."

Ethan released his grip on her body and surged to his feet. He took several staggering steps to the center of the room, hip bumping the couch as he passed it. Ran trembling fingers through his short hair. _Of course! Semen can be traced!_ Couldn't track if there wasn't a trail.

"This can't be happening...oh God..." The graphic hospital images of her stampeded through his mind like a horde of elephants. "Oh _God._ I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry, I'm _so sorry-_ "

Slim arms wrapped themselves around his bunched shoulders. Nyah pressed her bruised, cut cheek into the middle of his back, making soft _shushing_ sounds as she tried her hardest to comfort her long time lover.

"It's not your fault," she whispered over and over into the fabric of his t-shirt. Nyah hated it when Ethan shouldered crap he had zero control over.

Ocean blue eyes slid closed, trying to stem the hot tears building behind his lids. He couldn't afford to have a meltdown.

Suddenly the reason _why_ he was Prague in the first place hit the spy like a sniper bullet between the eyes.

"Dammit!"

"What?"

He jumped to his feet and started pacing the floor, running his hand through his hair.

"My team's due any minute! They don't know who you are and I've got no clue how I'm gonna explain-"

Nyah staggered over to the couch little daggers of pain shooting through her body. Alarmed Ethan caught her elbow eliciting a tiny hiss of pain.

"Easy, easy," he whispered. A lance of anguish pierced his heart. _I caused this pain. She's hurt because of me._

She leaned into his hand and braced against the corner of it.

"It's fine. I checked into the room across the way."

"Oh good." _Smart girl_. "When I'm done briefing my people, I'll slip into your room and change your bandages."

A sharp perfunctory knock caused both to tense.

"Ethan you here?"

 _It's Brandt. Wait here._ He mouthed, then held a long finger to his lips for quiet. He glided to the door and opened it. His three-man squad stood there with all matter of bags and equipment. Bold, beautiful, by-the-book Jane Carter. Strong and empathetic William Brandt better known by his last name to everyone. And smart, funnyman Benji Dunn who brought much-needed levity to the mix.

"Sorry we're late. The plane was delayed at the runway," Jane said crisply as they filed into the room, not seeing the extra occupant staring at them annoyed at the untimely interruption. "Cabs got stuck in traffic so we-hey! Who're you?"

Nyah cocked her head. "Oh you noticed. I thought you were blind for a second."

Jane blinked mouth agape. She dropped her bags on the floor with a loud _thunk._

The two men were no less astonished. "Miss, what happened to you? _Who did this?"_ Brandt demanded gaping at her injuries, but intrigued at the strange female. "I mean, how did you uh, find this place?" _More to the point who are you and why didn't Ethan tell us he had company?_

"You know who that is mate," Benji said giving his friend a huge _duh_ look. "Her face was all over the news a few weeks back." He smiled at the rigid woman hoping to put her at ease. "How do you do Miss Hall? You've sent the bluebells on quite a merry chase I hear. Oh and I'm Benji by the way."

"Hall?" Jane spun around a tinge of respect in her eyes. "As in _Nyah?_ Holy crap why didn't you say so?"

"That's cause you didn't let her," Ethan interjected. "And she needs rest. She's traveled a long way so cut her some slack." He'd moved back to the couch and extended his hand, a silent escape, but stopped when he caught the stunned look on Brandt's face. Eyes clouded with horror and anguish.

"Brandt."

The rugged agent's feet were glued to the carpet, face chalky pale. Unable to tear his horrified gaze from Nyah's abused body.

 _Dammit. He's flashing back to..._ _ **that.**_ Ethan hurried over and grabbed his friend by the shoulders, giving them a rough shake.

"Brandt. Don't you dare. _Hey!_ Wake up!"

Relief made his shoulders sag when awareness swam back into his friend's unfocused blue eyes.

"Hey. It's alright." Ethan soothed as he tried to keep the analyst from collapsing in a heap. "She's alive. See? You didn't fail her."

Nyah sat wide-eyed, rear firmly glued to the couch cushion, as Ethan coached his friend back from his trance state. Wondering what on earth this man witnessed to make him go catatonic at the sight of her mutilated body: battered, bruised and cut almost beyond recognition. Questions bubbled on her tongue but she swallowed them back. She'd get answers later.

"Hey. Ya with me man?"

Several seconds elapsed before the younger man recovered the ability to speak.

"Yeah." Wetting his parched throat Brandt tried again. "Yeah. I'm back. Sorry."

Jane crossed the room and laid a comforting hand on his back.

"Don't _ever_ apologize. Not for that."

Ethan pushed away the brutal, gory images of his wife's body double's gruesome demise at the hands of feral wolves dressed in human skin. Right now, he needed to focus on getting Nyah cleaned up and re-dressing her wounds. But not here.

He disappeared into the bathroom and reemerged with the first aid kit. Not a standard issue one found on a Walmart shelf but stocked with combat bandages and medicines an Army doctor would treat wounded soldiers on the battlefield. Medical kit in hand he stood in front of his first love and extended his hand for her to grab.

"If you'll excuse us," Nyah said shooting a quick glare at Jane. Ethan escorted her to the door but not before noting the unspoken gauntlet thrown between the two women.

 _Great. Now what am I gonna do?_

"Am I gonna cause problems?" Nyah whispered for his ears alone. They stood very close together and she shifted slightly to make it less intimate. "I don't like this Jane. Seriously, what's _with_ you and bossy women anyway?"

Ethan stopped. _Because you started the trend Nyah._ "You'll be fine. Let me handle her. But _those_ -" he pointed to the dirty bandages where a steady, festering smell wafted from. "-come off."

"But they-"

He slid her room key through the slot and ushered her into the single bed suite. Shutting the door gently behind them he let out a shaky breath. _That was too close. HOW am I gonna do this?_

"Don't worry about them." He gestured for her to sit down on the queen size bed. "You come first."

Nyah gripped the nightstand beside the bed for support, trying not to recoil as Ethan gently began removing her travel-stained clothes. She couldn't help emitting a small gasp of pain as he went to slide her jeggings down her bruised legs.

"Sorry," he whispered, gazing forlornly at her battered lower body but she threaded slim fingers through his hair. Gave it a reasuring squeeze.

"Not your fault," she soothed. "Keep going love."

His lips thinned into a severe line. Memories flashed through his mind at high-speed. Nyah injecting herself with the Chimera virus, a resigned yet truimphant look in her dark chocolate orbs at the knowledge that she was willing to die for him. Nyah staring at him bundled in that helicopter, her warm toffee skin deathly pale from the virus devouring her red blood cells. The surge of relief when Luther injected her with the antidote chasing away the chilling dread that he'd lose another person dear to his heart had been immense.

"But...I keep _hurting_ you."

She stilled at the echo of regret in that response but quickly recovered.

"Not on purpose. Now please finish," she said, voice shaking slightly from the strain of sitting upright. "I smell like a damn corpse."

Ethan's back tensed but somehow he managed to divest Nyah of the rest of her stained clothes on the floor. He'd get them washed later but now came the hard part.

Cleaning the myriad types of wounds littering her slender frame.

Slowly he managed to get Nyah to the small tiled bathroom where he bent over the glistening white tub and turned the shower on, testing the water with his hand to make sure it wasn't too hot or cold.

Pulling out his field knife, he made to cut the soiled bandages off but stopped when Nyah stiffened and tried to pull away.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, inwardly cursing his instinctual action. "I'll leave them on-"

"No." _Pain...knife...burning ruthless trails through her soft flesh...like slicing a sausage-_ Nyah forced herself not to look at the tool, choosing instead to focus on the shower stream. "Just...do it quickly."

Troubled at her reaction, Ethan inhaled deeply then blew out a heavy breath. _Don't think. Just cut._

He placed the edge against where he judged to be the tucked in flap then slit down the middle of her back, taking great care the sharpened blade didn't touch her abused skin.

With each layer he stripped away from her body the cuts and contusions jumped out at him, stirring the cold rage building in his gut.

 _Who the hell did this?_

"I don't remember."

Startled his head snapped up to meet troubled brown eyes, not realizing he'd spoken the sentence out loud. Nyah turned to step into the shower, letting the lukewarm water sluice off the sweat and clean out the slightly festering wounds.

Ethan moved jerkily towards the door leading back to the main suite. He needed to get out before he snapped and lost it right there in the bathroom.

"I'll be out there." His voice was calm, but Nyah could hear the building crescendo of anger boiling to the surface. "Call me when you're done."

He was so pissed off, the man barely caught her nod of consent. Closing the bathroom door he staggered over to the queen-size bed and braced his palms on the soft white comforter, Ethan heard a deep growling noise. He glanced around the room for a split second before realizing the sound had clawed its way out of his throat.

Suddenly he swept the pillows off the bed, scattering them all over the floor. But that wasn't enough. Kicking the mahogany post he let out a hoarse shout as images of his first love's battered form flooded his mind without mercy. He shook with pent up rage and the desire to rush out of the hotel and start the manhunt right then and there. Ethan hadn't felt the blood thirst this bad since Lindsey died in his arms in that chopper.

Then a tiny voice intruded on his murderous thoughts.

 _What about your team? They're gonna ask questions._

Ethan shook his head to shut it out. He could figure that out as he went. All that mattered, all his attention was to ascertain the identity of the monster responsible for putting those horrific marks on Nyah's body and mind.

 _I'm gonna kill this bastard. So help me God, I'll rip his ass apart. With my bare hands if I have to._

 **TBC...**

 **A/N: Alright guys, here's the deal. Starting now, this fic goes on HIATUS and won't come back until sometime in 2016. Sorry for the long wait and update, but I've got too many fics in progress at the moment and I need to focus on the priority ones and get those near COMPLETE before I pick this one up again. I'll be sure to announce in my profile when I turn my attention back to this lil' guy so keep ur eyes peeled. I've got a lot of pre-written material already, so all I need to do is streamline the content and I'll be set.**

 **Until then, have a Merry Christmas and a happy New Year! :)**


End file.
